


To build a home

by Elisexyz



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Dysfunctional Family, Everybody Lives, F/M, Minor Swanfire, No Henry-Pan switch, One Shot Collection, Unplanned Pregnancy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-02-25
Updated: 2019-10-23
Packaged: 2019-10-29 04:34:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 8,911
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17801129
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Elisexyz/pseuds/Elisexyz
Summary: “I didn’t know you were seeing anybody.”“That’s because I’mnot,” Regina scoffs. “We are just having a lot of sex with no strings attached. Exceptnow—”“There’s quite the string,” Emma completes, sympathetically. A pause. “Okay, I’m dying to know, who’s the father?”That’s probably the part of the conversation Regina was dreading the most. “Thefather—” she begins, with a scoff that says a lot about what she thinks about giving such a title to someone likehim. “—is Hook.”Or the fuck-buddies to co-parents to lovers AU I desperately needed to write.





	1. The announcement

**Author's Note:**

> This only takes into account canon up until S3A. I pretended that the Neverland arc was nicely wrapped up without Pan switching bodies with Henry and that everybody got to live more or less peacefully in Storybrooke. Neal and Emma got back together, and the two of them are happily co-parenting Henry with Regina, who started sleeping with Hook, no strings attached... it wasn't a great idea.  
>    
>  Please note that the chapters will **not** follow chronological order: I did try to plan it out that way, but I never would have finished it in a million of years, so I decided to go for a collection of one-shots. Meaning that next chapter the baby might be already born, only for me to go back to Regina being pregnant on the third chapter.  
>    
>  Also, if you feel like you've read this before, you're not crazy, it's probably because I accidentally published this first chapter a while back, when I hadn't even picked a title. I took it down as soon as I noticed, but there were already some kudos and views, so...  
>    
>  Okay, this should be all. Enjoy!

“So,” Regina begins, after a few moments of silence. “We are friends. Sort of. Right?”

Emma raises her eyebrows, distractedly playing with her glass. “I’d say so, yeah,” she replies, carefully.

“So if I were to tell you something, and ask for your—your _advice_ —” she trials off, under Emma’s evermore concerned gaze.

“I’d try to help,” she replies, frowning. “I’m no role model, but— what’s going on? Is something wrong?”

“I may have messed up a little,” Regina admits, her stomach twisting up at the mere thought of the massive disaster that she has created. She still has no idea how she ended up here, they’ve been _careful_ — at least, _she_ has, that idiot that she has been sleeping with lately just does what he feels like doing without much thought for the consequences. He probably thinks it’s not his problem, the bastard.

“Meaning?” Emma prompts.

Regina sighs. “I’m fairly sure I’m pregnant,” she confesses, as neutrally as possible.

Emma’s jaw literally _drops_ , with no regard for composure. “You— what?”

“That or I don’t know how to use magic anymore,” she concedes, mostly to avoid falling into an awkward silence and thinking about what she just confessed. Telling it to someone else makes it feel much more real and heavier.

“What— _how_?” Emma continues, her eyes wide as she leans towards her.

Regina’s eyebrows shoot up. “How? Seriously?”

At that, Emma makes a clear effort to regain some composure: she straightens on her seat and clears her throat, her eyes darting around for a few seconds.

“I _meant_ ,” she clarifies. “I didn’t know you were seeing anybody.”

“That’s because I’m _not_ ,” Regina scoffs. “We are just having a lot of sex with no strings attached. Except _now_ —”

“There’s quite the string,” Emma completes, sympathetically. A pause. “Okay, I’m dying to know, who’s the father?”

That’s probably the part of the conversation Regina was dreading the most. “The _father_ —” she begins, with a scoff that says a lot about what she thinks about giving such a title to someone like _him_. “—is Hook.”

Emma stares. And stares, and stares, and _stares_. Regina is honestly one step away from slapping her just to get a reaction.

“You’re joking,” Emma finally states, blankly.

“I wish,” Regina comments, miserably, emptying what’s left in her glass – she wishes she could drink alcohol without feeling guilty, she’d definitely need it.

“Oh my god,” Emma snorts, before erupting in a full-blown laugh, smashed against the counter with her face hidden in her arms. “Oh _god_ , I can’t—” she breathes, turning around to glance at Regina. “You got knocked up by _Hook_ —”

“That’s very helpful, Miss Swan,” Regina comments, drily. There probably are too many people in there to throw a fireball at her without any casualties. Henry wouldn’t be happy.

Well, Henry probably wouldn’t be happy with her even if she managed to kill _just_ Emma, but she’s very tempted all the same right now.

“Okay, okay, I’m sorry, don’t Miss Swan me,” Emma quickly sobers up, a slight grin still on her face. “Sorry, I just— I _definitely_ wasn’t expecting that.”

“Me neither,” Regina scoffs.

“So— does he know?”

“ _No_ ,” she immediately answers. “I haven’t even decided if I _want_ to tell him. Or if I _should_.”

“I guess you should, if you want to keep it?” Emma suggests, shrugging. “I mean, he’s the dad—”

“That moron can barely look after _himself_ ,” she points out. “How do you expect him to be a _father_ — he probably wouldn’t even _want_ to.”

“You should still ask,” Emma comments. She eyes her glass before grabbing it and emptying it all in one go. “I mean, I agree with you, he’s— probably not the best candidate for fatherhood, but this—this kinda still happened. So.”

Regina snorts.

“And if we are being _technical_ ,” Emma adds. “You are the Evil Queen. Not the best candidate for motherhood either.”

“I’ll remind you that I raised—”

“That’s my point,” she interrupts, briefly gesturing at her. “Eventually you figured it out anyway. So maybe he deserves a chance too?”

“I suppose,” Regina concedes, after a few moments, a displeased grimace on her face. The mere thought of a small pirate with no manners and all that _attitude_ running around her house—

“The child of the Evil Queen and Captain Hook,” Emma comments, shaking her head with a disbelieving grin as she fills her glass. “It’s going to be a real piece of work.”

 

 

 

“Hello,” Hook chants, leaning against the doorframe with that ever-present irritating grin plastered on his face. “Wasn’t the lad supposed to be home today?” he asks, stepping in at Regina’s silent gesture.

She keeps _looking_ at him, and really, he’s attractive, he’s a very good laid, but she’s regretting it so, _so_ much right now. Pity that time travel hasn’t been invented yet, or she’d go back to slap herself in the face.

“Emma and Neal agreed to spend the afternoon with him,” Regina explains.

“How _generous_ of them,” Hook comments, taking a step towards her with a deliberate look at what most definitely aren’t her eyes.

“No,” Regina immediately stops him, placing her hand on his chest to push him back. “Sit,” she orders, gesturing to the couch. “We need to talk.”

“Uh-uh,” Hook comments, raising his eyebrows as he complies. “I’ll have you know that I usually bolt when I hear that phrase coming out of a woman’s mouth.”

“Of course you do,” Regina scoffs, rubbing her eyes with one hand. God, this is going to be _such_ a major disaster— the good news is, he likely won’t want anything to do with it. Hook doesn’t even know what the word ‘responsibility’ _means_ , he’ll likely just want to be a funny uncle of sorts. Regina can live with that.

“So? Don’t leave me hanging, love,” he prompts, lightly.

Regina sighs. “Well. Apparently, we are two idiots,” she states. “Because I’m pregnant.”

Hook blinks at her and _stares_ , like Emma did, and this time Regina has exactly zero patience for it – if we are being fair, she rarely has _any_ patience for him.

“Storybrooke to Captain Guyliner!” she calls, kicking the couch to get his attention. “Did you hear what I just said?”

“Uh?” Hook replies, before breaking into a grin. “No, sorry, love, for a second there I thought you said I’d knocked you up.”

Regina merely raises her eyebrows, and she has to say that she rather enjoys watching the realization gradually creep up on his face.

“Oh,” he says, very eloquently.

“Exactly. _Oh_.”

Then, of course, the idiot starts laughing his ass off.

“This isn’t _funny_ —” Regina protests, one second away from burning him alive right then and there – what’s stopping her is mostly the thought of having to replace the poor couch.

“Oh, but it is,” he replies, literally doubled over in laughter. “I knocked up _her majesty_. It’s bloody hilarious.”

“Well, I’m glad that you are having _fun_ , because now we are going to have to discuss what you want to _do_ with this,” she hisses, crossing her arms.

Hook sobers up just enough to ask, a slight grin still on his face: “Meaning?”

“ _Meaning_ —” Regina replies. “—how involved you want to be.”

Hook blinks at her, _finally_ serious. “What do you mean? I’m the father, I want to be involved, period,” he frowns.

Regina raises her eyebrows. “You do realize that fatherhood implies _responsibility_.”

“I’m not as daft as you think, love,” he assures, like it’s obvious. “I know what it means.”

“Really?” she replies, sceptically. “When was the last time you had to take care of a child, exactly?”

At her question, his face darkens and his eyes drop for a second, before he can catch himself. He’s quick to regain a less incriminating expression, but by then the damage is done.

“That’s what I thought,” she comments, arms crossed and not really surprised by the implied answer: he’s probably never even _seen_ a child up-close.

“I’m sure that you’ll enlighten me, love,” Hook retorts, back to his grinning, annoying self. “I am still going to be as present as I can be, that I can promise.”

Regina scoffs. “We’ll see about that when you change your first diaper,” she mutters, turning on her heels to head for the kitchen and get herself an aspirin. Hook wants to become Dad Of The Year. It’s going to be a major disaster and she’s going to have no choice but staying right in the middle of it.

Well, short of dropping the baby at Emma’s place for ten years to even the scales, at least, but the thought only gives her a bigger headache: if there’s one thing worse than Hook fathering her child it’s Hook fathering her child _without_ her supervision.

 

 

-

 

“My apologies, I’ll have to borrow him for a moment,” Killian states, grinning widely at Emma as he grabs Baelfire’s arm and starts pulling him away.

Emma gives him a strange look before going back to sword fighting with Henry – the lad is getting good –, whereas Baelfire is clearly confused but follows him anyway.

“Okay— what’s this about?” he asks, as Killian takes a quick look around to make sure that nobody is within earshot: getting brutally killed by Regina is not very high on his list of priorities at the moment.

“You know how you’ve mentioned that I’ve been particularly cheerful lately?” Killian asks, as Baelfire raises his eyebrows.

“Yeah…?” he says, slowly.

“It’s because me and Regina have been having a lot of good sex.”

Balefire blinks at him a couple of times before taking a deep breath. “Okay,” he says, carefully. “And I needed to know that because…?”

“ _Because_ now she’s pregnant.”

There’s something to be said about the _finality_ of taking it out of Regina’s living room. He’s going to be a _father_. The thought gives him an insane amount of joy and at the same time it makes him want to jump on the Jolly Roger and get as far away as possible from that cursed town that has been causing him nothing but trouble. Going back to his old life sounds much simpler.

But he’s going to have a _kid_.

Thing is, what happened the last time he tried to merely be a father _figure_ for someone is kinda hard to ignore when the reminder is staring at him like he’s just grown a second head.

“That explains a lot,” Baelfire finally states, after regaining a more neutral expression.

“It explains _what_?”

“Emma,” he shrugs. “She went out for drinks with Regina and she came home, uh, _weird_. Guess this is what she was hiding.” A pause. “Congratulations?”

Killian scoffs. “Thanks.” He kind of feels like a very hormonal teenager, moving from the excitement of ‘I’m having a kid!’ to the sheer terror of ‘I’m going to be a _father’_ approximately every two seconds.

He had given this a thought or two with Milah, a couple of times, but they were pirating all around and she already had a kid that she planned to go back for, so he just figured _they_ would be his family.

Now he’s having a kid with _the_ _Evil Queen_ of all people. Evil Queen who thinks that he isn’t father material. The thought offends him immensely, mostly because a part of him can’t help agreeing wholeheartedly.

“What?” Killian asks, somewhat harshly, when he notices that Baelfire is staring at him, the corner of his mouth twitching up.

At the remark, Baelfire just bows his head to hide a full-blown grin.

“ _Bae_!” Killian protests, because, really, right this second he doesn’t particularly appreciate being mocked.

“Sorry, sorry,” Baelfire amends, sobering up. “I was just imagining a child with _her_ temper and _your_ dickhead. I don’t know if it’s hilarious or terrifying.”

“That’s helpful, mate, thank you,” Killian grunts. He needs alcohol. Lots of it. But his flask is obviously empty already, and it’s not like he can _rob_ a whole bar. He should probably dry his supply on the Jolly Roger.

“Okay, look,” Baelfire says, this time with that serious expression on his face that makes him look as far from the kid Killian knew back then as he could be. In this moment, he’s pretty darn grateful for it. “A kid is a good thing! And you’re here from the beginning, at least, it’s a good start. Yeah, you and Regina may not have a, uh, _conventional_ relationship—”

Killian can’t help scoffing a little, amused: calling it a _relationship_ might be a stretch in itself.

“—but this is still a good thing!” Baelfire continues. “And, I mean, our lives are crazy anyway, this is almost normal.”

“Do I need to remind you of what happened the last time I was in charge of a kid?” Killian asks, his tone lighter than it should be. He realizes a second later that he _probably_ should have kept that one for himself, that for a while now he and Baelfire have been on much better terms than he’d thought they would be, but obviously not enough to bring _it_ up like this— still, damage’s done.

Baelfire’s expression hardens, but it only lasts for a moment.

“Do you plan on selling this kid to the owner of a torture island?” he simply asks.

Killian barely swallows the urge to complain about the way he phrased it. “No,” he replies instead, a bit tiredly.

“Not even if they throw a temper tantrum full of insults and death threats, because— I don’t know, because you wouldn’t them eat too much sugar?”

“I don’t see why I would deny them sugar,” Killian highlights, trying to lighten up the mood a little and getting a benevolent eye-roll in return for his slight grin. “But no.”

“Then you should be fine,” Baelfire states, patting him reassuringly in the arm. “Not to mention, this is also Regina’s kid: I doubt she’ll let you get away with doing anything particularly dumb.”

“Fair point,” he concedes. “Alright, I won’t keep you from your family afternoon any longer,” he adds, gesturing his permission for him to go away.

Balefire briefly glances at Emma and Henry, before turning back towards him. “You know, aside from the, uh, crappy ending,” he says, clearing his throat. “You didn’t do a bad job with me. I mean it, you’ll do okay.”

He feels the corners of his mouth twitching up. “Thanks. I appreciate it.”


	2. Lullaby

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for the kudos and comments, here's the second chapter! (...can I even call it a chapter if it's a collection?)

“Careful, _careful_ — keep up—”

“The head, _yes_ ,” Hook completes, shooting her a displeased look. “You mentioned. Don’t worry, love, I can pull it off.”

Regina scoffs, but she doesn’t comment, her eyes fixated on how Hook is carefully cradling Evelyn and her muscles already tense in anticipation for the possibility that he will flat-out drop her.

The guy is missing a hand and he’s used to having a _hook_ to substitute it – which he is absolutely _not_ wearing, _ever_ , while touching her daughter –, that is bound to impact his mobility, not to mention that the guy in question is a moron, so she thinks she has a right to be worried here.

“Put the head like— in the crook of your elbow, like that—” she instructs. One of the benefits of single parenting definitely was not having to worry about the other parent dropping the kid. She can only truly appreciate it _now_.

“Alright, done?” Hook questions, with a slight, self-satisfied grin. And yes, he has nailed the position. He shouldn’t drop her, unless he faceplants on the floor or trips on the carpet – maybe she should remove it, just to be safe.

“Yeah, it’s fine,” she concedes, relieved, if just a little.

Hook beams at her, then he turns his attention to Evelyn, who has been looking around with sleepy eyes.

Since he refuses to let go of her because ‘it’s his turn now’ – she had a child with a five-year-old, that’s just fantastic –, Regina decides to prepare something to eat while she has her arms free. So long as Hook agrees to stay in the kitchen, where she can _see_ him, that is.

When Evelyn starts crying, Regina’s immediate reaction is dropping everything that she’s doing and turning, ready to intervene.

“Here, give—” she says, outstretching her arms to reach for her.

“No, no, I got it,” Hook says instead, taking a step back. “She just needs a lullaby, doesn’t she?” Without waiting for her answer, he starts trying to rock her back to sleep while humming a tune that Regina doesn’t manage to recognize.

She can’t help turning around every five seconds to check that everything is alright, and she doesn’t relax one bit until Evelyn has stopped crying, but she lets him do it.

It’s only the following week that she realizes what the song was: he’s once again rocking her to sleep a few feet away from her, and he starts muttering the words.

“ _Fifteen men on a dead man’s chest— yo oh oh, and a bottle of rum_ —”

She gapes at him for a few seconds. “Are you— are you _serious_?” she hisses, without raising her voice because all the humming _has_ been helping Evelyn drifting back to sleep. “That’s not a lullaby!”

“Anything can be a lullaby,” he counters. “See? She likes it! _Drink and the devil had done for the rest— yo oh oh, and a bottle of rum_ —”

“Oh, come _on_ —”

“ _The mate was fixed by the bosun's pike, the bosun brained with a marlinspike, and cookey's throat was marked belike_ —” He’s clearly having a lot of fun, grinning down at Evelyn and then raising his eyes on her intermittently. Regina is deciding if she should strangle him: maybe with a little luck she’d manage to get her daughter away from him before he can drop her to the ground. “ _It had been gripped by fingers ten— and there they lay, all good dead men_ —” She’d grow up without a father, but that’s fine, the alternative is _much_ worse— she can get surrogate father figures, it’s not like they haven’t got a giant, messy family tree. Neal is already getting a kick out of being honorary uncle, David _loves_ kids, Henry is more than a decade older than his sister— yeah, they can definitely get by without the one-handed wonder over there.

“See?” he grins, smugly, stepping closer so that she can get a better look at her daughter, apparently not caring that the closer he gets the easier it is for her to smack him into oblivion. “It works.”

Sure enough, Evelyn is dozing off, her mouth slightly open and her cheeks still burning red from the crying fit. Regina spares a moment to smile, her stomach twisting pleasantly as a wave of affection washes through her.

When she raises her eyes on Hook, he’s giving their daughter a besotted smile that’s probably very similar to her own.

(Maybe she can kill him later.)


	3. Names

“We are _not_ naming her after your _mother_ ,” Hook declares, looking mortally offended by the mere suggestion.

“Why not?” Regina replies, crossing her arms and shifting a little on her seat, her back pressed against the back of the couch.

“For starters, _Cora Jones_ sounds dreadful,” he immediately argues, which sends alarms going off in her head in under two seconds.

“Who said anything about giving her _your_ last name?”

Hook seems a bit baffled by the objection. “I’m the father, isn’t that how it works?”

Regina is pretty sure that her eyebrows shot up to her hairline. “No. We’re doing the double last name, at most.”

“Cora Jones-Mills?” he tries it out, sounding beyond sceptical – and of course putting _his_ name first, what a surprise. “Come on, the double last name is long and annoying. And you’ve already got a kid with _your_ name!”

“So?” she bites back, defensively.

Hook pouts a little, but in the end he decides to let it go – although it’s only temporarily, if she knows him at all.

“We’re not naming her Cora anyway,” he declares. Regina feels a rush of anger, and she’s fully ready to bite his head off, but before she can he adds: “She tried to kill me!”

“So did _I_ ,” Regia immediately argues. “And I’m considering it again,” she says then, although it’s addressed more to herself than to him.

He waves her off. “If we’re talking dead people we can go for Milah then,” he offers, casually.

“We are _not_ naming her after your _ex_ ,” Regina immediately argues, without bothering to keep a grimace off her face.

He grins. “Why not?” he asks, smugly. “Are you jealous, love?”

She shoots him an unimpressed look. “Your ex is also _Rumple’s_ ex. And Neal’s mother. Absolutely not.”

“It’s not my fault this family is all messed up!”

Regina sighs heavily, burying her face in her hands as she calls for all the divine entities she knows to give her the strength not to end all this in murder. Stress is bad for the baby, Whale has told her a thousand times over.

But it’s not _her_ fault that having to share a child with _Hook_ of all people is _very_ stressful – and she isn’t even _born_ yet.

Snow has repeated to her over and _over_ again – unprompted, obviously – that the key to everything is _compromise_. She needs to find the middle ground if she wants to make this work.

Even if she would prefer to _smash_ _him_ _against_ the ground.

Compromise is key.

“Okay,” she says, slowly. “Your last name, but I choose the first name.”

He seems a little taken aback by the offer, for a few seconds, but eventually he bargains: “It can’t be anyone we know or knew. And I get veto power.”

She snorts. “If I give you veto power we’re back to where we started.” _Compromise, Regina, compromise_. “You can veto _one_ name.”

He considers it for a moment. “Three names,” he tries.

“Two names.”

“And no one we know,” he reminds her.

Regina puffs. “And no one we know.”

Hook grins, seemingly satisfied by the final offer, and they seal the pact with an handshake, for the sake of making it official.

Regina tries not to shudder at the thought that if she’s compromising like this _now_ , god knows what she’ll end up agreeing to in the future.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ~~Take a shot every time they say "name" or "naming".~~


	4. The first word

There are some things that you just _shouldn’t_ do to a mother.

One is secretly eating the whole stash of Halloween sweets and then proceeding to vomit all over the house – Regina is just _waiting_ for Henry to be a parent himself and experience that kind of hell, she has been _savouring_ this.

Another is saying ‘Dada’ before ‘Mama’. Particularly when your father is a smug pirate who won’t even _try_ to hide how pleased he is.

“Yes, that’s me!” Hook keeps saying, crutched in front of Evelyn, who’s obviously very happy with the attention.

“Dada!” she repeats, for the millionth time, reaching for his shirt. It doesn’t look like it’s going to stop anytime soon, because why, exactly, would Evelyn stop it if it gets giggles and clapping by her very enthusiastic father?

The fact that Regina is never going to hear the end of this is obviously not a good enough reason.

“Hey, love, did you hear that?” Hook grins, turning towards her to invite her into their private little circle. Now, Regina has seen her fair share of ‘I’m so smitten by my kid’ smiles on his face, in this past year. This definitely falls more into the ‘I’m being an asshole, I know it, you know it, Eve doesn’t know it yet but she’ll learn someday’ category.

She rolls her eyes. “Yes, and the other fifty times too.” It comes out way too bitter, which is a mistake.

“Oh, come on, don’t be jealous,” he says, as Evelyn plays with his hand – namely, by trying to eat it. “She’s just a daddy’s girl. Aren’t you, sweetheart?” he adds, turning back towards Evelyn, who, right on cue, gives him a big smile and squeals: “Dada!”

The little traitor.

 

(Her first ‘Mama’ comes shortly after, and upon hearing that Regina melts a little.

Still, she’s going to _remember_ this betrayal and savour it for when Evelyn will be a problematic teenager. She’s sure that she can find a way to hold it over her head.)

 

 

-

 

 

It takes Killian a _lot_ of effort, a couple of sex bribes and a very nice speech to get her to say ‘Yes’.

Mostly because it feels weird to get married _after_ raising their daughter for sixteen years, and she’s already gone through one wedding in her life – not her most pleasant experience overall – and she _remembers_ what a nightmare the planning is.

Still, it seems important to him, and Snow will never let her hear the end of it if she doesn’t give her another marriage to co-organize – what Regina remembers the most clearly about Emma and Neal’s wedding is that they both would come to hide at her house at regular intervals, because Snow, Rumple and all their _planning_ were driving them insane –, so she gives in.

Evelyn’s reaction was something along the lines of ‘It was about time’, and after a whole day of being officially engaged Regina has yet to regret her decision. She even likes the ring he chose.

Of course, Killian being Killian, he has to ruin it.

“Hey, love,” he calls, tentatively, and Regina _knows_ that tone. It’s the same he used that time they went out for dinner with the whole gang, she _specifically_ told him to get the bag with the baby supplies and he realized that he had forgotten it only when they were about to enter the diner. Or, more recently, when he managed to destroy her brand new toaster. “I have a confession to make.”

Regina puffs, bowing her head and shifting under the covers to turn around so that she’s facing him. Whatever it is, she probably doesn’t want to hear it. “What?” she asks, resigned.

“But _only_ if you promise not to take your ‘yes’ back,” he highlights.

Her eyebrows shoot up. She can’t tell if he’s being dramatic or she’d better get dressed, because chasing him around the house in an attempt to murder him while naked wouldn’t be too dignified.

“What did you do?” she asks, narrowing her eyes.

“Promise.”

“ _Killian_ —”

“It’s not as bad as you think. Probably. Unless you’ve started to underestimate me after all these years.”

She sighs. Okay, how bad can it be? He hasn’t caused a major disaster in a while, after all. And she’s only promising not to take her ‘Yes’ back, it doesn’t say anywhere that she can’t murder or mutilate him, does it?

“Okay, fine,” she gives in. “I promise.”

Killian nods, clicking his tongue. “So. Remember Eve’s first word?”

Regina rolls her eyes. “How could I forget?” Is he really back to this? _Now_?

“Yeah, well. I sort of— cheated.”

Regina blinks. “You what?” she hisses.

“I may or may not have made sure to sit in front of her a lot and say ‘Dad, dad, dad’ over and over again. To make sure that she would say it soon,” he explains, with an expression that says ‘ops?’ and that makes Regina want to _strangle_ him right then and there.

That _asshole_.

“You gushed about it for weeks!” she accuses. “You brought it up _last_ _month_! You—you _bastard_ , I am absolutely _not_ marrying you!”

“Hey!” he protests. “You promised!”

“ _Well_ , people _lie_ , apparently!” she shoots right back, her cheeks burning in outrage. She can’t _believe_ — Not only the bastard talked about nothing else for weeks after the fact – both with her _and_ with other people –, but he has brought it up more than once over the years, his personal ‘I’m the favourite parent’ card, and he has decided to come clean only after _years_ —

“Oh, come on, don’t be mad,” he tries, reaching for her bicep and squeezing it.

She glares daggers at him, but she lets him do it.

“I’m going to kill you. Slowly.”

“You know, you’ve said that so many times that it has kind of lost meaning.”

That earns him a solid kick in the leg, because it’s not like there’s much that she can argue.

“Why exactly did you come clean?” she asks, after a few moments of silence. Because that’s definitely not like him, he’s more the type to wait until he actually gets caught.

“Because you’ll be my wife soon and I didn’t want to have any secrets?” he tries, but it’s pretty clear that he’s aware of how ridiculous that sounds coming from his mouth.

Regina merely raises her eyebrows.

He puffs. “I _may_ have accidentally let it slip with Lynnie,” he confesses. “Thought it’d be best to go ahead and tell you instead of—”

“—instead of allowing her the blackmail material,” Regina completes, grinning slightly. “Smart choice.” She makes no mystery of how their daughter’s little deceptive steak makes her just as much proud as it exasperates her.

“Yeah,” he says, clicking his tongue. A pause. “So, still marrying me?” he asks, lightly, and it’s a testament to how well she knows him by now that she can immediately tell that he’s only about 80% joking.

She rolls her eyes. “You owe me for cheating,” she highlights. “So _I_ get to decide how we divide the wedding planning.” Namely, he’s going to get stuck doing the most atrocious parts, and he knows it.

“Bloody hell,” he exhales. “I should have taken my chances with the kid. You’re much worse.”

She grins. “Yeah, I guess I am.”


	5. Midnight crying

Regina buries her face in the pillow with a groan, unsuccessfully trying to tune out Evelyn’s cries so that she can go back to sleep. It might help if she closed the door, for starters, but she can’t really bring herself to, not with the thought that she might not wake up for an emergency in the back of her mind.

Her legs itch for her to get up and intervene, and the only reason why she has held out this long is that the whole _point_ of alternating nights is making sure that neither of them goes crazy before Evelyn learns to sleep throughout the night.

Still, it feels like the baby has been crying for _hours_ , so Hook probably doesn’t have the situation under control – unsurprisingly so, she might add.

She should probably intervene, at least to make sure that there is no real crisis going on.

As Evelyn makes her wince with a particularly sharp cry, Regina rolls on her back and quickly steps off the bed, her head pounding and her aching legs needing a moment to find some balance.

“Couldn’t have sex with someone with more than two braincells now, could we,” she mutters to herself, heading straight to the nursery. She finds that Hook is unsuccessfully trying to calm the baby down by dragging himself across the room and humming some song under his breath, his eyes half-closed.

“No luck?” she asks, her arms crossed and her face as judgy as she can make it.

Hook seems a little startled for a moment, but then he only puffs at her, unfazed by the implied criticism. “No,” he complains. “And my arms are killing me.” He steps forward, holding the baby out for her. “Take her for a minute, will you?”

Regina rolls her eyes, but she doesn’t protest, gently gathering Evelyn in her arms as the knot in her stomach eases and Hook just drops on the couch behind her with a pained groan.

She bounces a little on her feet, cradling Evelyn and shushing her to try and calm her down. Soon enough, much to her poor head’s relief, the cries subdue.

“Seriously?” Hook says, gesturing widely with his good arm. “If you just wanted your mom you could’ve bloody well said so,” he mutters, rubbing his face with his hand.

Regina gives him a condescending look, a small grin tugging at her lips at the thought that Evelyn wouldn’t calm down because she wanted _her_ specifically. “She’s a _baby_ , she doesn’t talk.”

“Yeah, and you’re a _witch_ ,” Hook points out. “I’m sure you could work something out.”

She rolls her eyes without answering, looking down on Evelyn instead: she seems to calm, but she’s going to keep this up for a few minutes before she tries to put her down in the crib and get some sleep on the couch.

“You look terrible, go get some sleep, Captain Eyebags,” she says, drily, because whatever she does she really doesn’t need his help.

Hook raises his eyebrows, rightfully confused. “I thought it was my night.”

“And yet, here I am, taking over, since you are obviously incompetent.”

He pushes himself up in a sitting position, suddenly a lot more awake, and he grins at her. “That actually sounds more like you care about my sleep deprivation.”

She shoots him an unimpressed look. “I _care_ that you’re going to bitch all day if you don’t sleep,” she points out. “And she clearly wants me.” She pauses. “Just go to your damn room before I change my mind,” she quickly adds then, gesturing to the door with her head.

He keeps on grinning, but he gets up from the couch.

“Well, thanks, love,” he yawns, passing her by and casually smacking a kiss on her temple before she has a chance to do much of anything about it.

She ends up gaping at his back while he gets out without even turning, her brain stuck on a loop of ‘What the _hell_ was that?’.

That’s not the kind of stuff that’s contemplated in this relationship, definitely not like this, it never has been and it never _will_ be.

He is even staying in the guest room, because neither of them has enough energy to even _think_ about sex, and she isn’t sharing a bed with him for no good reason. It’s already enough that she has taken him into her house.

She swears, if the fact that they’ve had a kid together has given him weird ideas—

 _Murder_ , her brain supplies, as per usual. _The solution to all of your problems is murder_.

Alright, maybe she’s overreacting. It’s late, and he’s tired, and she just relieved him of his shift with Evelyn. He probably would have kissed Granny too, had she been there in her stead.

She can hold out on the murder – for now – and write it off as an unhappy incident. Just this once.


	6. The announcement (2) (Regina&Henry)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was [prompted to me on Tumblr](https://heytheredeann.tumblr.com/post/185229573029/are-we-ever-gonna-see-how-regina-told-henry-the), although I probably would have gotten to it eventually XD Henry's reaction to the Big News.

“Uh, Mom?” Henry calls, hesitantly.

Regina musters up her best smile, turning towards him and folding her hands over the table. “Yes, honey?”

He looks vaguely creeped out. “What’s going on?” he finally asks, setting down the fork and leaning back against his chair. “Did you— I don’t know, mess something up real badly?”

_Well, in a manner of speaking…_

“No, of course not,” she scoffs. “Why would you think that?”

Henry raises his eyebrows, gesturing at the plate in front of him. “You made me _pie_ ,” he says, as if it were obvious. “And said it was _dinner_.”

Yeah, alright, maybe it _was_ a bit obvious.

She’s just so nervous she might throw up – not that it’s _news_ , it feels like lately she has been doing nothing _but_ throwing up, she barely survived making that pie, the smell was killing her –, so she thought it’d be a good idea to— _ease_ him into it. It’s been just the two of them since forever, and one thing is Henry having two more parents to add to the mix – something that _she_ struggled with but that definitely made _him_ happy –, another is having another kid in the house.

Jealousy is apparently a very normal feeling in older siblings, and she can’t help thinking that with a single mom that could only get _worse_. Not to mention that she has made her fair share of horrible messes when it comes to parenting Henry, messes that she has no intention of repeating this time around. In a lot of ways, he got the short end of the stick.

The more she thinks about it, the less likely it seems that Henry will be exactly thrilled about this.

(Emma assured her that Henry would really like a sibling and that he’s going to be happy, but what does _she_ know? Regina’s paranoia is definitely a more trustworthy ally.)

“Alright, you’re right,” she sighs, deciding to get it over with. “I have— I just have something really important to tell you, and I don’t want you take it the wrong way, that’s all.”

Henry looks a little worried for a moment, then he tries to grin to break the tension. “Are you divorcing me?”

She shoots him an unamused, if fond, look, shaking her head. “No,” she says, slowly. _Alright, deep breaths, Regina. You have survived worse than this. Just do it_. “How would you feel about becoming a big brother?” she gets out, all at once.

Silence falls for a few moments as Henry only gapes at her and Regina waits for him to react in _some_ way.

She just hopes that it will be soon, before anxiety eats her whole.

She just needs to be patient and— oh, who is she kidding?

“Honey?” she prompts, probably failing at hiding her fear.

“Are we, uh, talking hypothetically?” Henry finally says, crossing his arms and frowning at her in confusion.

“No,” she sighs, still braced for an outburst of anger but a little relieved that he’s _talking_ , at least.

His frown deepens. “Is—is Emma having a baby?”

“Not her.”

Why would _she_ be telling him if that were the case?

No, actually, thinking about it, she can picture both Neal and Emma dropping this on her if they were too cowardly to do it, nevermind.

“Do I have a third mom that I don’t know about?” Henry tries, and this time Regina can’t help shooting him an exasperated look.

“ _No_ ,” she snaps. “Henry, come on!”

“I’m sorry!” He throws his hands up. “I’m just confused!” he declares, settling back on his seat and looking at her with a grimace on his face. “I mean, right now I _really_ wish I didn’t know how this works, but I do, and I’m pretty sure that you need a dad to make a baby, and you don’t have a boyfriend.” A pause. “Do you?” he adds, looking vaguely disturbed at the thought.

Regina grimaces. “Not exactly,” she concedes. Henry only keeps staring at her with a giant question mark on his forehead, so she sighs. “Me and, uhm, Hook— we’ve become pretty close, uhm— _friends_ , recently.” Yeah, friends. Right.

Henry’s eyes widen so much that she’s afraid they’ll pop out of his head, then his whole face twists into the kind of disgusted face that was reserved for broccoli a few years back.

“Ew, Mom, _ew_ ,” he protests. “It’s in my _head_ now!”

“Yeah, well, you asked!” she says, defensively. “And that isn’t really the _point_ ,” she adds then, crossing her arms and taking a deep breath, swallowing heavily as Henry manages to regain some composure. “So— how do you feel about it?”

“About this? _Ew_ ,” he immediately comments, which gains him an eyeroll. “And about the little sister or brother— I think it’s great,” he adds, smiling earnestly at her.

Something eases up in Regina’s chest, and she smiles too, relieved. “You do?”

“Sure,” Henry shrugs. “I’ve always thought this house was too big for just the two of us anyway.”

Regina’s smile only widens as she nods, feeling an overwhelming wave of affection for her amazing little boy. How exactly did she manage to raise a kid that’s so much better than her in every way?

“Plus,” Henry adds, happily going back to eating his pie. “They got me pie for dinner, and they aren’t even _born_ yet. I love them already.”

She snorts in amusement, shaking her head slightly. “That’s one way of looking at it, I suppose.”


	7. Slaying the dragon

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one is a bunch of fluff that might ruin your teeth. You have been warned.  
>    
>  Also, if you were wondering, [this is what I imagine Evelyn looks like](https://heytheredeann.tumblr.com/post/185457063414/do-you-have-a-castimg-for-evelyn-jones-i-knoe).

Killian takes a theatrically deep breath, peeking into the living room and quickly pulling back. Regina is sitting on the couch, watching some TV with her back turned on the door.

“The dragon is guarding the castle,” he announces. “What now, Captain Jones?”

Evelyn purses her lips, getting a more solid grip on her wooden sword as she eyes him thoughtfully – with the one eye that isn’t covered by her eyepatch, at least.

“ _Now_ ,” she whispers, leaning forward with an evil glint in her eye that’s all her mother. “We attack!”

Without even giving him time to get ready, she bolts into the living room, letting out a war cry as she launches herself in the direction of the couch.

Regina, poor woman, spares a moment to have a stroke, but when Evelyn yells ‘Surrender, dragon, and we’ll spare you!’, she quickly catches up on the game, grinning slightly as she moves to the opposite end of the couch than the one their daughter jumped on, summoning some fire in her hands for dramatic effect.

“You’ll have to defeat me, Captain,” she declares, to which Evelyn giggles, launching forward. She swings the sword with her full body, and Regina dramatically rolls off the couch.

“Take the remote!” Evelyn orders him, before triumphally jumping off the couch too, presumably to finish off the dragon.

Killian moves to obey and grab the remote sitting on the coffee table, next to the couch, but Regina _literally_ throws a blast of fire in his direction, making him take a step back.

“Seriously, mighty dragon?” he protests, although at this point he’s quite sure that she wouldn’t _actually_ kill him. Probably.

She shrugs, grinning as she pushes herself up and grabs the remote.

Evelyn moves to attack again, threatening her with the sword until Regina is pushed back against the couch and forced to sit down. Eve then jumps on the couch, coming up behind her mother to press the sword against her neck and say: “Let it go, dragon!”

“Okay, okay, I surrender,” Regina quickly says, holding her hands up and barely fighting off a smile. Killian snatches the remote from her hand, a touch pettily, because, well, she tried to _roast_ him. “You won, Captain,” Regina adds, to which Evelyn grins triumphantly, meeting his eyes for approval.

“Aye, good job!” he says, holding up the remote, given that that’s their trophy.

Evelyn lets go of her mother with a satisfied grin, holding up her sword in triumph.

“This one will make a fine pirate,” Killian declares, proudly. “Even better than her old man, I’m sure.”

Looking at Regina’s face, he can hear the ‘Over my dead body’ loud and clear. Unfortunately for her, Evelyn’s grin only spreads at the declaration, even though she says: “No one’s a better pirate than you, Daddy!”

“That’s because you are not in the business just yet,” he points out, which gets him a giggle in response.

Killian drops soundly on the couch, right next to Regina, snooping Evelyn up to place her on his lap.

“So, what are we watching, Captain?” he asks, knowing perfectly well what the answer will be.

“Pirates!” Evelyn declares, without a moment of hesitation.

Regina groans loudly, throwing her head back.

“Shut up, dragon, you lost,” Killian points out, smugly, which earns him a benevolent glare. The not-actually-threatening kind of glare has become more and more common as the years passed, to the surprise of pretty much everyone.

Evelyn elects to watch the third movie of the _Pirates of the Caribbean_ , for what is perhaps the tenth time in the last few days, and Regina silently shakes her head, a slight smile on her face showing up for a few moments, then she unceremoniously scoots closer, sliding down so that she’s comfortable using his shoulder as a pillow.

He bites back a grin, wrapping one arm more firmly around Evelyn as she gets settled against his chest and not daring to move his left arm, even slightly, because you’d never want to spook the mighty dragon when she’s being _cuddly_.

Sometimes, he can barely remember why when this whole thing started he felt such a pressing temptation to just run back at sea.


	8. Sick day

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written for [this Tumblr prompt](https://heytheredeann.tumblr.com/post/188543824549/). Sick fic, guest starring Neal's voice on the phone and Henry.

“Hook!” Regina calls out, banging her fist against the door. “Do you have any intention of coming out of there any time soon?”

It’s already eleven in the morning, and Hook generally isn’t one to sleep in. Hell, he deals with mornings better than _she_ does. It is very weird that he is still holed up in the guest room – which she supposes two years into this became officially _his_ , even though he doesn’t make use of it nearly as often as it’d be appropriate.

When no answer comes, Regina decides that she has worried enough about manners for the day, and she tries the handle, barging in as soon as she finds out that he hasn’t bothered to lock himself in.

She finds him faceplanted on the bed, the curtains still sealed.

“What are you still doing in bed?” she asks, annoyed.

Hook turns his head towards her, cracking one eye open to give her a pleading look. “I’m _dying_ ,” he whines, like the overgrown child that he is. “I’m literally _dying_.”

Regina rolls her eyes, stepping towards the curtains to let more light in, to which he makes some unintelligible noises of protest and buries his face in the pillow again.

“Are you hangover?” she asks, or more accurately, _snaps_. She didn’t notice him going out last night, and she _swears_ , if he got drunk in the house—

“No,” he mutters, barely audible because of the pillow. “Just dying.”

She elects to take him at his word, because she has never known him to have any shame when it comes to—well, to anything, actually. So, she doubts he wouldn’t say so if he had been drinking.

Which just leaves the option that will probably cause her the most trouble.

“Roll over,” she orders, walking up to the bed to give him a small shove of encouragement.

He complies, even if he keeps his arm pressed on his eyes to avoid the light and he only cracks one eye open to take a look at her, for a moment. “I hate to say it, but I’m not in the mood, love,” he tries to joke.

Regina rolls his eyes, pressing her palm against his forehead for confirmation of the reason why he sounds half dead and—of course, he’s burning up. There’s a flu that has been moving around Storybrooke, and obviously he had to catch it. You’d think that living on a stinky ship with a bunch of pirates would at least build you up a decent immune system, but apparently not.

“You are sick,” she puffs, annoyed.

“Brilliant,” he mutters, rolling back on his stomach to disappear in the pillow once again.

Regina has exactly zero intention of dealing with this.

“Do _not_ get out,” she orders, although it probably isn’t necessary judging by how he seems to be unwilling to do anything that isn’t complaining. She quickly gets out and goes to grab her phone, with every intention of paving him off to someone else.

Neal answers on the fifth ring. “ _Yeah?”_

“Hook is sick,” she immediately says, electing to avoid the small talk. She never calls him just to chat anyway, he’d ask what it is that she wants about ten seconds in.

“ _My condolences_ ,” is Neal’s wholly unhelpful answer.

“I won’t look after him, and I can’t have him in the same house as my _children_.”

There’s a pause. “ _You could dump him on the side of street, I guess. In a little box. Like a dog_.”

She snorts, grinning a little at the mental image. “Are you picking him up or not?” she prompts then.

“ _I would, but right now I think I’d crash and die_.”

Regina sighs, rubbing her face with one hand. She was hoping that his groggy voice was only because he had been sleeping in as per usual and she woke him up with her call.

“You’re sick too,” she states, because that’s just her luck. He was probably the only person who would have done this with only mild complaining, her only other options are few and will need convincing.

“ _Yup_.” He pauses for a moment, then he adds: “ _So is David, before you call him. Snow too, and Emma is getting there_.”

How wonderful.

“Dumping him on the street it is,” she mutters, briefly contemplating how many chances there are that leaving him on Rumple’s doorstep wouldn’t end with her daughter being prematurely orphaned.

“ _Good luck_ ,” Neal snorts, clearly not sick enough not to be enjoying her misery. It’s going to be a long day.

The first thing that she does after ending the call is cursing internally. Then she wonders if she has a box big enough to stash Hook in, to which the answer is ‘Probably not, but I can work something out’. She has to remind herself of the importance of human compassion, successfully argue that _yes_ , she should apply it to Hook too, if only because Evelyn would be sad if the idiot were to catch his death after she dumped him on the street, and _then_ she starts moving to deal with the situation at hand.

She fetches Henry, who is still in his pyjamas and whose hair is a complete nightmare, but she doesn’t comment on it, given that she needs to ask for his help.

“I am going to need you to keep an eye on your sister today,” she explains, successfully projecting the appearance of someone who is not awfully frustrated with her current situation. “Keep her distracted so she doesn’t start complaining that she wants to play with Hook, okay?”

Henry frowns. “Why?” he asks, a ton of suspicion in his voice. “Where is he?”

“Not dead in a ditch, sadly,” Regina mutters. “He’s sick,” she adds then, not masking her annoyance. “I don’t want Eve to catch it.”

“Oh. Yeah, okay.”

“Good.” She takes a deep breath. “And now, if you’ll excuse me, I have to go make _chicken soup_.”

She pretends not to hear Henry stifle a laugh as she walks away.

 

 

When she walks back into the room, carrying a bottle of water and a bowl of soup, she finds Hook in the exact same position that she left him.

“Come on, sit up,” she prompts, keeping her voice low enough not to set off fireworks in his probably aching head.

Hook mutters something in his pillow. It figures that that he’d be a whiny patient.

“You need to drink, and to eat so you can take a pill. Sit up, I’m not dealing with your flu a minute longer than necessary,” she insists, walking around the bed to leave everything on the bedside table.

Half of Hook’s face emerges from the pillow, one eye cracked open.

“Will you mourn me when I die?” he asks, and it’d almost be pitiful if it weren’t so annoying.

She rolls her eyes. “You are not dying, you _moron_ ,” she mutters, pretty much manhandling him into turning on his back so that she can then pull him up and fix two pillows behind him. He doesn’t fight her on it, busy as he is whining.

“I’m dying,” he insists, mournfully. “Will you cry?”

“Of joy maybe,” she says, distractedly. “Sit straight, if you spill this everywhere you are cleaning it up yourself.”

To his credit, he does attempt to obey, even as he blinks confusedly at her, and then at the tray that she is carefully putting on his lap, not too enthusiastic at the idea of being the one responsible for spilling the soup everywhere.

“You made me food?” he asks, wide-eyed.

She raises her eyebrows. “You have been eating at my table for a couple of years now.” Maybe she should check that he hasn’t an high enough fever to melt his brain. He didn’t seem _that_ hot though.

“Yes, but this is for _me_ ,” he insists, plainly delighted. “Thank you, love!”

His childlike joy drags a small smile out of her, before she elects to shake her head, fondness still bubbling in her chest. “Just eat it. And drink. Then take a pill and get some more sleep.”

“Aye, aye!” he agrees, the food having apparently done wonders for his mood.

She gets a few extra blankets out of a wardrobe, leaving them at the end of the bed in case he gets colder before the fever starts dropping, then she grabs some fresh clothes to leave for when he will wake up in a puddle of sweat.

“I’ll come back to check on you later,” she assures, when she begins heading out and she feels his eyes on her. He doesn’t look very happy, and it almost makes her feel guilty. Almost.

 

 

(She comes back a little earlier than planned, because she didn’t have anything better to do and she has the dirty dish to collect anyway, and she finds him sound asleep, holed up under two extra blankets, which are messily sprawled over the bed. She rolls her eyes, straightening them up so that they are _actually_ covering him and realizing a moment too late that she is all but tucking him in, her lips twisted in a fond smile that has _no business_ being there if addressed to Hook drooling on his pillow.

Perhaps it’s just that he is less annoying when asleep.)

**Author's Note:**

> This story is part of the [LLF Comment Project](https://longlivefeedback.tumblr.com/llfcommentproject), which was created to improve communication between readers and authors. This author invites and appreciates feedback, including: 
> 
>   * Short comments
>   * Long comments
>   * Questions
>   * “<3” as extra kudos
>   * Reader-reader interaction
> 

> 
> If you don’t want a reply, for any reason, feel free to sign your comment with “whisper” and I will appreciate it but not respond!


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